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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25512607">Above Us Only the Stars in Their Envy</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBitterKitten/pseuds/TheBitterKitten'>TheBitterKitten</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Celestial Bodies [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hannibal (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, Murder Husbands, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Soft Hannibal, everyone's in love except that one guy, hannibal is so in love, will graham is so in love</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 05:55:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,233</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25512607</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBitterKitten/pseuds/TheBitterKitten</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"Have you ever known peace such as this?"</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Celestial Bodies [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1850647</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>105</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Above Us Only the Stars in Their Envy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p class="p1">Will sits on the swing bench in the pool cast by the porch light, gazing out at the rolling waves fading into an abyss where the horizon should be. He’s always been drawn to water, but after everything, he’s practically obsessed (according to Hannibal). His one request is that anywhere they stay for longer than three months has a view over a body of water, or at at least has one within walking distance. Hannibal has made sure it is always a view, despite the habit making them easier to track.</p><p class="p1">Hannibal lingers now in the door frame, shirt sleeves rolled precisely to his elbows, folding his apron. Dinner is finished, waiting to be presented, cooling on the counter. But he is caught at the sight, and simply watches his other gaze at the Pacific, so utterly content he can only breathe into the feeling, savoring as much as he is able.</p><p class="p1">“Come sit with me?”</p><p class="p1">It’s just a murmur, a request barely heard above the calm waves of the ocean, but Hannibal obeys, taking the seat beside Will, struck dumb with the purity and delicate wonder of the moment. All he can do is breathe and take in every aspect of the man beside him, the faint scent of blood still clinging to Will’s fingertips even after a shower.</p><p class="p1">“Have you ever known peace like this? After... everything?” Will asks, turning his beautiful head to him. His face is so open and so doe-eyed with love that it’s all that Hannibal can do to stop himself from wrapping his hands around that lovely throat and consuming him raw, preserving Will Graham as he is right now. Taking him into Hannibal’s own body as succor against the years and the ache that must lie ahead, because surely something so perfect cannot last beyond this second. But Hannibal smiles, shaking his head softly.</p><p class="p1">“No, Will. I have never known such peace as when I am with you in the quiet hours of the evening.” Hannibal presses a gentle hand to the side of Will’s face with the scar, pushing back the curls.</p><p class="p1">A little smile plays on his other’s lips as he lets the weight of his head rest in Hannibal’s hand, and Hannibal has never been so gratified, so enamored as when Will smiles at him. The smile reflects his own.</p><p class="p1">Will’s face shifts from blissful to serious as he watches Hannibal, and the man can’t help but put his guard up, after all this time, after all they’ve done. Will notices, searches his face, softening somehow even further from the undeniable peace he had a mere minute ago.</p><p class="p1">“I can’t do anything but love you, you know,” says Will, placing his hand on Hannibal’s, lashes dark against his cheeks, “I don’t want to do anything but love you.”</p><p class="p1">Hannibal can’t say anything in response, because Will’s mouth is on his; wet and sweet, hot and righteous and so tender that Hannibal’s heart breaks anew, freshly bleeding. Tears sting his eyes. He feels Will’s weight settle heavy in his lap, and he holds Will tightly to himself; this anchor, the human heat of him a balm. Hannibal simply breathes, rocking the bench in the small circle of light fighting against the darkness. He feels Will’s hands caress his hair, close around his throat, his arms circling Hannibal’s shoulders, anything to keep him close, and Hannibal is lost.</p><p class="p1">Will pulls away to gather breath, and Hannibal follows after before he catches himself, swallowing, tasting Will and memorizing his taste on his tongue, lost in yearning. Will sees him, and rests his forehead in the space where Hannibal’s throat joins his collarbone. He is so trusting and so at ease, Hannibal can only place his hand reverently in those dark curls hiding such wonder.</p><p class="p1">“Dinner is ready whenever you are,” Hannibal says thickly, with effort. He almost can’t bear to part with Will, even to eat. This moment is as nourishing, all dark heat and the tide of their shared breath. But Will —again— withdraws, and Hannibal follows after, feeling the ache.</p><p class="p1">He presents their meal at the lavishly set table, draped in larkspur and fern and roses and driftwood. “Butter-poached lobster, enlivened by acorn squash and fennel, then lobster and kidney mousse agnolotti followed by tongue smothered with celeriac root, mojo de ajo and kohlrabi,” he explains, trusting he will have the other man’s approval. Will returns the private gaze that Hannibal cannot help but give his companions whenever he feeds them human. Will delights in their triumph from yesterday: a fisherman alone amongst the reeds on the shore, cursing them for being in his spot and now quite silent.</p><p class="p1">“It’s delicious. Thank you.” Will finishes his plate, eating the agnolotti and the tongue first. They rise together to plate dessert, ginger sponge cake and pistachio cremeux.</p><p class="p2">Even in such mundane tasks as dishes, they are one. Washing and drying and stacking in cupboards is a dance, a tango, a <em>pas de deux</em>. Will's fingers linger on Hannibal's as he passes him a plate, and Hannibal cannot help the lump in his throat.</p><p class="p1">Hannibal already has so much, is so resplendent with happiness, and yet he must ask for even more.</p><p class="p1">“Indulge me, Will,” he breathes, even as he clings to the man moving smoothly inside him, their chests crushed together, no space and not nearly close enough.</p><p class="p1">“Always,” Will says, even as he reluctantly pulls away, rolling Hannibal over, a gentle hand pressed low on his belly.</p><p class="p1">Hannibal is so very nearly lost, quite completely smothered by the pillow Will forces his head into, hand fisted into the hair at the base of his skull. Hannibal clutches for a handhold in the sheets, limbs spread so far apart he must focus on keeping his balance as well as drawing breath through the thick pillow.</p><p class="p1">He can only just bear what Will provides, sustained and so full where there was no lack before.He wants so desperately to believe that what Will gives to him is absolutely everything of himself, because Will has Hannibal tautly suspended on a bare thread of ecstasy and he never wants this moment to end. He moves blindly against the other man in search of pleasure, of pain, of any stimulation at all. Will wraps a hand around him and strokes, merciful even in the swirling darkness of his own pleasure, and Hannibal sighs at the perfect rightness, absolutely wrecked. At last, and in no time at all, Hannibal comes against him, squeezing Will tightly within him, gasping into the pillow and spilling himself onto the sheets.</p><p class="p1">Will comes at the same time, or shortly thereafter, it’s blurred. They stay in this moment for a long time. Hannibal revels in the heat of it all, every point where their sweat-slicked bodies meet, Will’s warmth burning into him like a brand he will gladly suffer. At length, Will falls heavily to the bed below, taking the other man with him. Will casts a leg over Hannibal’s, preventing his separating them, and laces their hands together, face tucked between Hannibal's shoulder blades. As if Hannibal could separate them now, after everything. As if he wanted to. He takes his first deep breath since they began, filling his lungs with air and their mingled scent, tasting the starchy cotton of the pillow.</p><p class="p1">“No, Will. I have never known peace such as this.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The dishes are based on ones once available at Botanist in Vancouver, Canada.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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